


My Judgment's Gettin' Kinda Hazy

by colonel_bastard



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Disguise, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Public Sex, Secret Relationship, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_bastard/pseuds/colonel_bastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Chris take enthusiastic advantage of their anonymity on Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Judgment's Gettin' Kinda Hazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lincolnshire_Poacher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lincolnshire_Poacher/gifts).



> Written for a kink prompt from [The Lincolnshire Poacher](http://lincolnshire-poacher.tumblr.com/), who requested Hiddlesworth and agoraphilia — meaning the characters had to have sex in a public place. _Delicious._
> 
> Now, when I first got the prompt I immediately started sketching out a fic where they would have sex while hiding in a place just out of view of people passing by. However, the secrecy aspect of it soon started to feel way too much like my last fic where they joined the Mile High Club, so the idea didn't really have any stamina. Fortunately I happened to remember a marvelous incident from last Halloween, when I saw two dudes just absolutely go to town on each other against a wall in a nightclub while everyone around them turned a blind eye. And I thought: _perfect._
> 
> Title is a line from Ke$ha's [Your Love Is My Drug.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QR_qa3Ohwls) That's my secret for writing great Hiddlesworth fanfiction, you guys. Lots and lots of Ke$ha.

It turns out that anonymity is addictive. 

Chris had almost forgotten what it felt like to be able to walk into a crowded room and not have everyone turn and stare. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be just another person, just another body in the crowd, just another passing stranger. For the hundredth time that night, he gives Tom a congratulatory slap on the back. 

“This is brilliant, mate!” He yells over the thumping bass music. “ _You’re_ brilliant!”

“I know!” Tom shouts, spinning away across the nightclub dance floor. 

It’s Halloween, and as Tom pointed out, it was time to seize the bloody day. Pick a costume, any costume, there’s only one requirement: a mask. For a laugh, Chris decided to go as Captain America. Tom almost broke his own rule when he insisted on dressing as Thor, but he was able to find a black domino mask to wear under his plastic winged helmet, and he’s been smacking Chris with his toy Mjolnir all night. It used to be able to shoot a plastic bolt when a button was pressed, but Tom lost that piece about ten minutes into their first club. Now it just lights up and emits a canned thunder sound, but that’s more than enough to keep Tom laughing every time he activates it, and that’s three — or is it four?— clubs later. Chris lost count after his sixth drink or so. 

Tom is, of course, proving to be enormously popular on every dance floor they visit. And why wouldn’t he be? A six-foot-tall dude dressed as the mighty Thor and cutting a rug like there’s no tomorrow— all the guys think he’s hilarious and all the girls want to dance with him. Tom has gotten wilder and wilder as the night goes on and the drinks keep flowing, and right now he seems to be endlessly delighted by how well his red velour cape streams out behind him when he spins. Chris waits for him to complete his latest rotation and then jumps in to hook an arm around his waist, joining him in the next turn around. Tom whoops with glee and holds on to him, and together they manage to get through three more spins before they crash into a couple dressed as Han Solo and Princess Leia. 

“Watch it, assholes!” Han Solo barks at them.

“Sorry!” Tom yelps. “I’m so sorry!” 

Knowing that he’ll stand there apologizing all night, Chris grabs Tom by the arm and drags him forcibly away. Once they’re free and clear, they both take one look at each other and burst out laughing. 

“He had _no idea_ who we were!” Chris guffaws. 

“I _told_ you!” Tom crows triumphantly. “ _Everybody_ gets to be invisible tonight. The masks are a free pass to do whatever we want.” 

And it isn’t until he actually hears it said out loud that Chris fully grasps the implications of the concept. It seems to hit Tom at the exact same moment, because his big goofy grin slowly fades away, replaced by the dazed expression of someone that’s just had a pivotal epiphany. 

“We’re invisible,” he breathes. 

“No,” Chris says, already moving towards him. “We’re anonymous.” 

And he takes Tom’s face in his hands and kisses him right there in the middle of the dance floor. Tom throws his arms around Chris’s neck, the toy Mjolnir dangling carelessly from his wrist, both hands needed for the embrace. The rush is indescribable. Chris doesn’t think they’ve ever kissed in front of another living soul, let alone a nightclub packed to capacity. It’s like going from jumping off a diving board to jumping off a two hundred foot cliff. The adrenaline high is unreal. 

It’s not that they _need_ to hide their relationship. It’s just that it’s nobody’s business but their own. Their public interaction is notoriously affectionate, but in the end, it’s still professional. It’s just... quieter that way. A celebrity romance is already going to attract enough attention as it is, but when it’s two costars from a multi-million dollar blockbuster film franchise, that’s like catnip for the press and public. They’d never be able to get enough, so it was preemptively decided by the pair of them to keep it secret for now. Sometimes that’s even half the fun of it, the sneaking around, the furtive winks and hasty gropes under tables. Sometimes it’s downright _thrilling_ to be having a clandestine affair right under everyone’s noses.

But sometimes it would be really nice to just be able to kiss him whenever he wanted without having to worry about kicking off an insane media shitstorm. 

Thank Odin for All Hallow’s Eve. 

Drunk on booze, drunk on the excitement, Chris kisses Tom with reckless abandon right there in front of everybody. He’s all tongue, messy and wild, making an absolute spectacle of himself and absolutely loving it. Tom would normally be grabbing fistfuls of Chris’s hair by now, but since it’s all covered up by the Captain America mask he grabs his ass instead, using his grip as leverage to grind against him as they make out. They’re far from being the only couple getting frisky on the dance floor, but they’re certainly one of the most striking. 

“ _Woo!_ ” yells a girl nearby. “Get it, Thor!” 

And Chris almost panics until he realizes that she wasn’t talking to him. 

“ _To Valhalla!_ ” Tom cries lustily, a giddy howl that draws a wave of laughter from everyone within earshot. 

“Come on, Cap!” another girl shouts. “Show him who’s boss!” 

Chris flinches and looks around, feeling suddenly exposed as he sees how many people are watching them. Then Tom squeezes his ass, _hard,_ his fingernails digging into the blue polyester. 

“You heard them, _Captain,_ ” he taunts. “Show me who’s boss.” 

And Chris realizes that nobody sees _him._ They only see the costume. He’s not Chris Hemsworth, Hollywood star. He’s just some guy who splurged and bought the nicest version of the Captain America suit that they had at Halloween Adventure. 

“Okay, buddy,” he says, mustering up his best rendition of Chris Evans’s magnificently patriotic inflections. “Get ready for a little taste of truth, justice, and the American way.” 

There’s a scattering of cheers as he crushes his mouth against Tom’s once more. It’s tricky to hold him by the head without knocking off his helmet, so Chris moves one hand to the back of Tom’s neck and the other down between his shoulderblades, using both to lift him up into the kiss. Tom still hasn’t let go of his ass, pulling himself closer and closer until he’s straddling Chris’s thigh, grinding his erection against his polyester-clad hip. Chris kisses him with everything he’s got, fierce and unrelenting. 

The sound system is throbbing with a fast, heavy bass beat, and before long the packed dance floor has swallowed them up in a crowd of bumping, grinding bodies. At first Tom moves in time with the music, but soon enough he loses all sense of the rhythm and just devolves into humping Chris’s leg, his hands now crawling all over the star-spangled jumpsuit. He paws at Chris’s chest, his back, at the mask that hides his long blond hair, all while kissing him like his life depends on it. God, this is the absolute best part of having Tom as a partner— it’s so easy to get him whipped into a total fucking _frenzy._

“Come on,” Chris says into his ear, though he’s not sure if Tom can even hear him over the music. 

Just to be sure he doesn’t lose him in the crowd, he reaches down and grabs the handle of the toy Mjolnir. When he starts moving, the strap around Tom’s wrist pulls taut and drags him along. Tom falls in step behind him with all the enthusiasm of a pet joyfully responding to his master tugging on his leash, and with his free hand he reaches up and claps on to his plastic winged helmet to keep it from being knocked off by one of their fellow revelers. Chris is six-foot-three and dressed like Captain America. It’s not difficult for him to bulldoze a path off the dance floor. 

The club is full of dark, convenient corners. Chris finds an empty one and throws Tom into it, pinning him there with the entire span of his body. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he smirks. “I love your costume.”

“I couldn’t resist,” Tom grins, breathing hard. “Thor is my favorite Avenger.” His grin turns teasing. “And I have a _massive_ crush on the guy who plays him.” 

Chris guesses what he’s about to do a split-second before Tom grabs him between the legs, the heel of his hand rubbing hard against Chris’s clothed erection. Chris growls and presses into it, bracing himself against the wall on either side of Tom’s shoulders. As Tom works on him he steals a glance in both directions and sees that they’re not the only ones to have this idea— in next corner over, a guy in a Batman costume is going to town on a girl dressed as Lara Croft. And that just makes everything perfect, because now Chris knows for a _fact_ that the only thing people see in _this_ corner is a guy in a Captain America costume going to town on a guy dressed as Thor. 

Halloween is officially the greatest holiday of all time. 

“Perhaps it is different on Midgard, Captain,” Tom squirms against him. “But in Asgard we repay one favor with another.” 

He gives Chris’s cock an insistent squeeze through the polyester, and with a laugh Chris reaches down to grab him in return, delighting in the way Tom’s eyes flutter and roll at first contact. 

“ _Ah,_ ” he gasps. “Much better.” 

Chris uses his other hand to cradle the nape of Tom’s neck, urging him to tip his head back so he can kiss him again. Tom eagerly complies, his mouth opening the moment they touch, welcoming Chris in. The hand that isn’t stroking Chris’s hard-on ends up winding around behind him, pressed between his shoulders so that Mjolnir is bouncing off the small of his back. They kiss, and kiss, and Chris doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of him, enough of _this,_ being all tangled up with him where everyone can see and no one cares. 

Because really, _no one cares._ They’re just another couple getting busy in the back of a crowded nightclub, too drunk and too emboldened by their masks to give a damn what anybody thinks. Sure, a few people make comments, but none of those comments are “ _wow look at those two celebrity costars dry-humping in the corner_ ” so Chris doesn’t give a flying fuck. 

“Check it out,” a frat guy chuckles to his friends. “Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Homos.” 

It makes Tom giggle so much that he can’t kiss properly, so Chris gives his cock a series of vigorous tugs to get his mouth all slack and gasping again. Then he kisses him so hard that he can feel the vinyl **A** on his forehead grinding against the front of that adorable plastic helmet. The frat boys laugh nervously. 

Then—

“So,” one of them says. “Who would win in a fight, Captain America or Thor?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” another exclaims in outrage. “Thor is a _god._ Cap would get curbstomped!”

“Oh come on, he’s a _super_ soldier! Plus he’s got the indestructible shield and—”

“No, dude. _No._ ”

“Cap is a tactical genius! Are you telling me he couldn’t figure out a way to—”

“A way to _what,_ defeat a _god?_ ”

“You’re not even giving me a chance to make my point!”

They wander off into the crowd, their debate swallowed up by the thumping bass beat that’s still pounding overhead, so loud that Chris can feel it in his skin. He curls his fingers and Tom hisses with pleasure. 

Leaning down to his ear, Chris asks, “Do you want to take this back to the hotel?”

Tom shakes his head, and Chris catches a glimpse of Loki in the wicked, rebellious smile that exposes a tantalizing sliver of his teeth as he wonders:

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Daunted by the unspoken proposition, Chris looks uncertainly along the length of the wall to the far corner, where Batman definitely has his hand down the front of Lara Croft’s iconic shorts. Tom follows his gaze and makes an incoherent sound of triumph when he spots the other couple. Then he arches his back and rolls his hips, dragging his cock along the length of Chris’s through two layers of screen-printed polyester. Chris groans shamelessly, knowing that the music is loud enough to cover the sound. 

“Make me come right here,” Tom urges. “Right now.”

And you know what? Chris is just drunk enough to decide that’s a _brilliant_ idea. And if they’re gonna do this, they’re gonna do it _right._

First things first— he grabs that ridiculous toy Mjolnir and twists it until the loop of the strap is too tight to slip off over Tom’s hand. Then he grabs Tom’s opposite arm and shoves it up and behind him, holding it down at the wrist with the handle of the hammer. The move effectively pins both of Tom’s hands against the wall over his head, all while leaving one of Chris’s hands free. It happens so fast and Tom is so intoxicated that it takes him a second to figure out what just transpired. When he realizes that Chris has him trapped, his chest starts to rise and fall rapidly, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with excitement. 

“All right,” Chris growls, projecting his voice just enough for Tom to hear him over the music. “Ask me nicely.” 

“Please,” Tom gasps, twisting in his grip. 

“Please, _what?_ ”

“Please, _Captain,_ ” Tom moans. “Make me come in front of _everyone._ ”

When he asks like that, Chris can’t refuse him anything. 

He slips his free hand behind Tom’s back, sliding down in the space between the cape and the costume until he finds and grabs a handful of his ass. He uses his grip to steady him as he starts to grind against him in earnest, their clothed erections pressed flush against each other, patriotic blue to gunmetal grey. Tom’s arms spasm instinctively against his restraints, his mouth open and panting, his eyes squeezed shut in bliss. He lets Chris guide the motion of his hips, thrusting obediently every time Chris presses against his ass. The plastic wings of his helmet scrape a staccato rhythm on the wall behind him as his head snaps back and forth in waves of pleasure. 

Enjoying the view, Chris starts lavishing his mouth and exposed throat with kisses, licking at all the sweet spots that make Tom shiver. Since they don’t have any public appearances scheduled for a while, he doesn’t feel guilty at all as he marks his territory with a series of hickeys all over Tom’s lovely neck, all the while Tom whimpers and groans in his ear. 

“Check it out,” a delighted female voice says behind him. 

They’re being watched. Chris doesn’t care. Tom probably doesn’t even notice. 

“That’s hot,” another female voice says approvingly. 

“Yeah,” the first voice agrees. “But it’d be hotter if the other guy was dressed as Loki instead of Cap.” 

“Oh, _totally._ ” 

They disappear back into the crowd, leaving behind an echo of gleeful giggles in their wake. Chris licks a trail from Tom’s neck all the way back up to his lips, which he covers with his own. Tom kisses him hard, then twists his mouth to the side, gasping. 

“Faster,” he begs. “Ah, Chris, just a bit— just a bit faster—”

And Chris complies, pumping his hips double-time for the last short burst before Tom comes, his plastic helmet saving his skull from a direct collision with the wall as his head snaps back at the moment of climax. Chris grinds relentlessly against him, making sure to milk out every last aftershock before he finally takes his weight off of him to let him breathe. He does not let go of his trapped hands. He’s biding his time.

Chris waits for Tom to open his eyes before he leans in to speak. 

“I’m not done yet.” 

That was intentional planning on his part. If they’re gonna do this, they’re gonna do it _right,_ goddamn it. Licking his lips in anticipation, Tom juts his hips forward. 

“Don’t stop until you’re finished.” 

Grinning ravenously, Chris takes his wildcard hand off Tom’s ass and moves it up to cover his mouth. Tom’s about to get exceptionally noisy. He’s already excited for it, his tongue darting out to tickle Chris’s palm before he settles in for the ride. Chris knows it won’t take him long to finish once he starts. 

“Hang on, baby,” he rumbles. 

And he pushes in close to continue grinding against him like he never stopped. He catches a shriek in his hand as Tom surges up onto his toes, every inch of his body screaming with the effort to take the pressure off his overstimulated cock, his eyes rolling over in his skull. Chris ruts against him hard and fast, his own arousal skyrocketing at Tom’s desperate display, at his clenched jaw and taut, straining neck. He comes in a matter of seconds, and then they’re both collapsing against each other, breathing hard and clinging to the wall to keep from wiping out entirely. 

Then it’s all drunk, sloppy kisses as they make out like a couple of teenagers at the tail end of a vigorous dry-humping session under the bleachers. Chris can feel Tom smiling against his mouth, so fucking proud of himself for thinking of the whole costume thing in the first place. He should be. It was absolutely bloody brilliant. 

“So,” Chris shouts to be heard over the music. “ _Now_ should we go back to the hotel?”

By way of answer, Tom points the toy Mjolnir at his face and presses the button. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles— well, if you use your imagination. Chris laughs and pushes the toy aside. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Stepping out of the club is an almost surreal experience. The streets are far from silent, but compared to the pounding sound system inside, this is a Zen garden. The late October — well, now technically early November — night air is crisp and cool, and the sidewalks are still populated with plenty of costumed merrymakers. Tom, drunk as a lord, staggers to the nearest lamppost and jumps up onto it, Gene Kelly style, holding his hammer aloft in lieu of an umbrella.

“This nightclub!” he shouts. “I like it! _Another!_ ”

“I think we’ve had enough fun for the night,” Chris laughs. “Come on, let’s get a cab.”

“I say thee nay!” Tom sings out, leaping down from the lamppost and jogging up the street. “Another!”

“Mate, I really want to go change,” Chris grimaces, picking at the polyester at his crotch. “I’ve got a bit of a mess in here.”

“Me too!” Tom hoists Mjolnir overhead and punches the sound effect button. “Isn’t it great? Don’t you feel _alive?_ ” He uses the hammer to point the way. “Onward, to victory!” 

Chris stumbles after him, trying to ignore the sticky warmth on his thighs. He supposes he can survive one more club. Besides, if he lets Tom get all hyped up from dancing again, he might be persuaded to give an encore performance when they get back to the hotel room. Spurring into a jog, he catches up with Tom at the corner and slings an arm around his shoulders, rapping his knuckles against the top of the plastic helmet. 

“So what’s next?”

With apparent confidence, Tom turns them in a certain direction and sets off marching. 

“I have no idea where I’m going,” he admits cheerfully. “But it looked like a lot of people were heading this way!” 

And it’s true, they seem to be moving with a crowd of other late-night revelers, all of them determined to make the most of every last minute of the holiday. Tom has one arm around Chris’s waist and the other swinging Mjolnir merrily at his side. Chris tightens his grip on his shoulders. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Gimme a kiss.” 

Smiling, Tom turns his face up towards him and obeys, their mouths connecting even as they keep walking. After a few paces they stop in their tracks to kiss properly, Tom with his arms around Chris’s neck and Chris with his arms wrapped around Tom’s back, all tangled up in his cape. They kiss right there on the street, completely out in the open, surrounded by people.

And aside from a few muttered complaints about blocking the sidewalk, nobody gives a damn. 

 

 

 

___________end.


End file.
